Memories of Never
by Lioness's Heart
Summary: They say that true love endures through time and distance, but does it transcend dreams of a life you never had? Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: Beka and Rosto are not mine in any way, shape, or form. They belong to Tamora Pierce; I just borrow them.  
A/N: What do you know, I'm back with another oneshot! My best friend loved it when I let her read it, so I hope that's a good sign that y'all will like it as much as she did. So, enjoy, and don't forget to review, please!!  
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* * *

_Soft bootsteps echoed through the empty inn. As she pulled off her cloak, movement caught her eye. A grin split her face. _

"_So, I hear that you are called the Elkhound now," a voice said. A crooked grin appeared on the blond man's face and a mischievous glitter in his dark eyes. She nodded, unable to tear her eyes from his face. Slowly, he got to his feet and moved towards her. "I missed you, Beka." His voice made her shiver._

"_I know. I missed you, too, Rosto," she replied softly. He reached out and placed his scarred hands on hers, holding them for just a second before drawing her close. _

"_I'm glad you did. I would be rather disappointed if you hadn't," he said with a chuckle. "I love you, Beka." He leaned down to capture her lips-_

Then she woke up. Beka Cooper ran her hand through her slightly sweaty hair as she realized that the dream was over for another night. It would pick up where it left off, just as it always did. Beka's dreams were her sanctuary, where she was happiest.

In all truth, her dreams were nothing like her life. In her dreams, she was the Elkhound. She had saved the young prince from kidnappers, and she was in love with the King of the Rogue, Rosto the Piper. She sighed as she dragged herself out of bed. Most days, she wished they were real before she pushed them away for the day. She wanted those days to be as real as they seemed to her.

As much as she wished it, she knew that they would not be true. Ireland had not had a king in centuries, much less a Prince. There was no such thing as 'The Court of the Rogue,' anymore, and she was not a law enforcer. She was a collage student at the Trinity College Dublin. There was no Rosto, or Aniki, Kora, Ersken, Tunstall, Goodwin, or Ahuda. But she wanted there to be.

Beka's day went by without her noticing more than she had to. She dutifully took notes, and wrote down the homework assignments, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't help but wonder sometimes, if those people were out there somewhere.

* * *

_Adrenaline jolted through her veins as the duel progressed. There, he had almost gotten himself killed once again. But, he had still managed to win. She shook her head at him. _

"_Looby," she muttered under her breath when he walked into her room later to talk to her. He snorted._

"_I heard that." It was her turn to laugh._

"_I know, but you're still a looby." He ignored that comment, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into his warm embrace, savoring the feeling. _

"_Am not," he whispered into her ear a few moments later. "I chose you, didn't I?" She chuckled, kissing his cheek. _

"_Yes, you did. And I am very glad that you did."_

A sigh escaped her as she thought of the dream she had had the night before. Beka had her head propped up by her hand, while she was supposed to be studying.

"Snap out of it, Bek," her best friend told her, waving a hand in front of her face. Beka grinned, turning back to her work.

"Sorry. Guess I was thinking about something else," she told Lyra.

"Obviously. I swear, you do that more often than anyone else I know, Beka." The blond looked back up at her friend to see the other woman grinning.

"I know. I was just thinking about the dream I had last night." Lyra rolled her eyes in response. She had found out about the dreams when Beka had accidentally woken her up in the middle of the night while sleep-talking during a sleepover years before. She hadn't told anyone, but she still teased Beka about the man in the dream, Rosto the Piper. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder why her best friend was in love with someone who did not exist.

Once again, Beka was far off, instead of working. Lyra grinned and rolled her eyes, laughing to herself.

* * *

"_Beka!" She dimly heard her name in the background, but her mind was foggy. She could feel everything, from the gravel underneath her, to the wounds covering her skin. Suddenly a pair of strong arms lifted her from the ground. Somewhere in her throbbing head, it clicked that it was a handsome blond man that she knew too well. Rosto had come to her rescue._

"_Don't you dare die on me, Beka," he whispered in her ear. She tried to nod, but could only manage to groan weakly. All she was aware of was that she was safe in his arms. She was always safe there._

_Later, she woke in her own room. It was dark outside, she noted. She turned to look at the room, thinking. No sooner had she turned her head, she saw him. He had fallen asleep sitting in a chair at her bedside. His head was tilted back and he was snoring softly. She couldn't help but giggle quietly. She put her hand on his knee and he jerked awake. He turned his sleepy gaze on her, looking concerned. She smiled at him._

"_Thank you, Rosto," she said. He nodded, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her forehead._

"_You're welcome, love." With that, he settled back in the chair and watched her as she fell asleep again._

Beka sighed as she walked down the street in town. A million different things were on her mind. She picked her way through the milling crowd of people, stopping occasionally to go into a store, or look in a window.

She glanced at a window, then away, across the street. Then she went back to walking down the street, only to do a double take seconds later.

Across the street was a man with white-blond hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and black eyes. Beka stopped walking and stared. It was him, the one from her dreams. Rosto.

Even across the street, with people passing in between them, their eyes met. Seconds passed as they stared at each other, then minutes. Flashes of dreams, memories of a life that neither of them had ever had, flashed through her mind. In another instant, it was gone. There was no glitter of roguish mischief in his eyes, but there was something…

Then the moment ended, and something jerked both of them back into reality. Beka's cell phone rang, right as one of his friends clapped him on the back and asked what he was staring at.

Later, some people would say that it had been strange, what they had seen. They claimed that they saw a young woman, decked out in all black, a crisp tunic and breeches, with her hair in a neat braid. In her hand was a strange wooden pole, no more than two feet long, and at her feet, the image of a cat with violet eyes. Her ghost-colored eyes were glittering happily as she stared at something – someone – across the street.

On the other side, they could see the shadowy image of a man with white-blond hair, dressed in a similar style of clothing, with daggers at his belt and hidden on his body. Scars littered his pale hands, and a few even shown on his face. His sable eyes never left the gaze of the young woman.

Slowly, they both smiled and raised a hand in both greeting and farewell. A few could see the warmth in their smiles and eyes.

Then everything had vanished, replaced by people no different than the ones in the crowd. Then, everything went on as it had before…

* * *

Beka was in a nearby coffee shop three weeks later, a notebook in front of her, and a pencil in her hand. A cup steamed within reach of her hand. She sighed as she jotted something down on her notebook. She glanced at her watch to see how much time she had left before she had to meet Lyra at the bookstore. She had more than an hour left.

That was when the door to the coffee shop jingled, and a cacophony of voices entered the small building. A number of young men, and a couple of woman, had entered, almost all of them talking at once. Beka rolled her eyes and took a sip of coffee.

After a few moments, it quieted a little bit, as the members of the group made their orders and chatted among themselves. Beka kept on working, trying to ignore the noise. It didn't take all that long before the group quieted, taking seats at the various tables.

She glanced up once to see one of the young men in the line staring at her. It was the blond man from before – the one she had seen across the street, who had so resembled the man in her dreams. She instantly flushed pink and looked back at her notebook. The next time she glanced up, he was no longer looking at her, and she relaxed, running through what she was writing down again.

"Excuse me." A voice made her look up in surprise. It was that man again. Up close she could see that he was truly striking. She looked at him for a moment before breaking the silence.

"Yes?" It was his turn to pause. He looked down at the cup in his hand, seemingly just a little nervous.

"Um, my name's Rosto. May I join you?"

"Of course. I'm Beka." So thus, a history that never existed, a love that never was, began once more.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Is it any good? Click the prettyful blueish-purple button, and let me know what you think! And yes, Trinity College Dublin is a real place...**


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